


An Inconvenient Truth

by Cackymn



Series: Standoff [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Pre-Slash, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cackymn/pseuds/Cackymn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of Standoff Series: Follows "Tuesday Morning Coming Down."<br/>Tony isn't the only one blaming himself. Gibbs confronts his inner bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Inconvenient Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to divakat and gibbsandtonysbabe for beta and encouragement! Errors be mine.  
> I own nada. CBS, NCIS, thanks for the loan!

Tonight the golden curls of wood, falling away from the blade of the planer, did not carry his worries down with them to rest on the floor and be swept aside for yet another day.  The soft scrape of the sanding block was not soothing anything.  A bottle of bourbon sat unopened, and the jelly jar still had wood screws in it.  Gibbs wasn't drinking tonight because the bourbon was just another part of the holding pattern, part of the recipe that kept the rest of the world believing that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a force of nature - a law unto himself, unfathomable and unbreakable.  Gibbs alone knew all the cracks, knew the exact taste and texture of the recriminations he kept at bay. He had his own personal catalogue of losses, deaths, and disasters - the ones that were his fault and the really big one that wasn't.

Tonight the memories would not be slipping away to the strains of a liquid lullaby.  Tonight he would not be anesthetizing his conscience.  Bourbon wasn't going to work because the subject of his dilemma was very much alive. Gibbs didn't know whether or not his heart could still play with a full deck, but tonight he was going to lay the cards on the table and try to make some sense of the reckoning he owed DiNozzo. Tonight had been a long time coming.

He took a breath and let it begin.  It was messy and disjointed, it was anything but pretty, and he let it wash over him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Good God, he really thought of it as The Tony Situation.

That alone should have told him most of what he needed to know.  He'd thought of it that way on and off for a long time.  He knew he could have dealt with it years ago when it had been warmer, and cleaner, and everybody had had less baggage.  Could have.

The cat-and-mouse game had been sweet then.  He didn't think Tony's wild overcompensating had ever been intended to fool him.  More than once, he had considered calling DiNozzo's bluff.  One slap to the ass instead of the head would have done it. But he never had, and the game had hardened into something that wouldn't move.

Then he had tried to forget about it.

Now it was cracking, God knew why.  Maybe it was because he had been treating Tony like crap.  Maybe it was because he'd always supported him more behind his back than to his face, and he knew it.  Maybe it was because life was getting shorter and people were dying and the beautiful irrepressible boy was disappearing and no way did that man deserve to lose a part of himself.

He could have let DiNozzo go. He could have rolled the dice and offered him something.  He'd done neither.

He was selfish, he was still a bastard, and it scared him.

Yesterday he had hit a new low.  Catching Tony off guard, he'd asked a question that struck at the heart of everything.

" _Why the hell do you do that, DiNozzo_?"

" _Do what, boss_?"

" _Flinch. You've been doing it a long time_."

" _Boss, it would help if I knew what you were talking about._ "

" _What happened, Tony_?"

Scraps of the exchange kept coming back to him. He didn't even really know why he started it, except that everything lately had been so frustrating.  Having the offices blown up with his  people in them might have done a thing or two to his nerves, and the whole business with that widowed Marine had him feeling absolutely ruthless.

But this?  He'd used every tool he possessed to tear right down to the bottom, without any warning, as if Tony were a suspect to be taken apart.  Tony had showed up with the hiccups and Gibbs had pulled out a shotgun.  There had been no fucking excuse, none at all.

He'd goaded the younger man into an anguished confession and then topped it with his own.

" _You happened, Gibbs. Alright, you happened_!"

" _Didn't happen, DiNozzo_."

" _Look, boss, it's ok, I get it. Guys like us, we don't._.."

" _Is THAT what you think_?!"

He'd shouted this at Tony.  It just might have been the most hostile declaration of love in the history of the goddam universe, and he hadn't stopped there.

" _Then why aren't you doing it with Dah-veed_!"

" _What!  Is that what YOU think_?"

" _Tony, I would have known._ "

" _Bullsh._.."

" _I. Would. Have. Known_."

" _Then what were you waiting for!"_

" _You, dumbass_!"

That had been despicable, really.  As if he couldn't have said something that didn't accuse the younger agent.  Tony had left upset and and was no doubt blaming himself right now.  Soon he would recognize the manipulation, and the self-loathing would be replaced by cold fury.

Gibbs knew he deserved it.  It was the same kind of shit Tony had been forgiving him for for years.

 " _Sleeping with Barrett's a bad idea._ "

" _I understand this one, boss. It's kind of nice, you know, having somebody to talk to_..."

Tony's voice had been particularly reasonable and gentle, as if he'd felt the need to justify having someone to talk to, or thought he might actually have to explain it.

" _I depend on you_!"

Gibbs had barely been under control.

Then there had been the invitation from Wendy, was it really just last Christmas?  Tony hadn't gone on that date - he had surveilled it and then fled to Casa Gibbs.

" _Two cups - one is work, the other is family. I always knew it was on me if I couldn't figure out how to do both_."

" _Did you come here to blame me_?"

 " _No._ "

" _Then man up, move on.  Get out of my basement.  You're not going to find what you're looking for here."_

He had turned around to make Tony think he was leaving him down there, but then he'd called from the stairs.

" _So, are you comin_ '?"

Tony had followed, smiling.

What kind of heartless asshole shits on _that_?

He'd repeatedly succumbed to the urge to play interrogator and martyr at the same time, because he could.  Being a self-righteous bastard was his job, and he was tender enough when somebody really needed him, but here he'd spent more than a decade throwing ice water on Dinozzo while keeping him close.

Ari would have called it pride, and Gibbs didn't even want to think about what Ducky would call it, the fact that he thought he was sparing Tony by not loving him.

He'd told himself he'd been careful with his influence, in case Tony wanted a wife and family.  So, where were the wife and family?

He'd come down hard when the kid was in any kind of conflict, gruffly insisting that Tony make his own decisions.  Kid?  The kid who never asked for anything in return - the man he'd never thanked for pulling him out of the water.

Yeah, he'd been a paragon of fucking frankness.

And Tony had stayed, every time.

Yesterday he could have driven the Challenger instead of the truck, as he'd ended up doing anyway.  What he'd wanted that morning was to talk about their horror-show of a case.  With Tony, not the others.  Why had he bothered with the nonsense about a ride?  Then he'd focused his helplessness on DiNozzo in a reckless push - at what?  The truth?  The simple truth was that he'd needed his senior agent's strength before facing the slaughter again. 

But Tony had jumped at the sound of his voice, and it had pissed him off.  He'd flinched at the sound of his own name, as if the word weren't safe coming from Gibbs' mouth.  At seven-thirty in the morning in his own fucking kitchen, that had _hurt_ , and then it had all become about something else.  The truth was that he just hadn't been able to stop himself.

He knew it couldn't be only the case that was breaking him.  It was his gut, and his gut never being wrong didn't mean he never made mistakes.

He had pushed Tony hard, and while he'd finally heard what he suspected, he'd also seen something he never wanted to see.

For a few agonizing moments after Gibbs dropped the bomb, Tony had retreated into his own thoughts.  The young man's face had been an open book and it had been bad.  Gibbs had read surprise, outrage, calamity, guilt - and a sorrow that had shocked him into silence.

_At what cost has Tony been doing his job?_

He had gotten to the office late to find Tony putting on his usual brilliant performance.  Gibbs didn't think anyone other than himself would have noticed the strain.  It had been damn near Oscar material, if anybody cared, and for Gibbs another part of the picture had slotted into place -  it was just for him.

DiNozzo at his best was like jazz, volatile but smooth, bubbling up into all the open spaces.  It was clear to Gibbs that everyone else took it completely at face value, and seeing the younger man riffing joylessly to an oblivious audience had sent a jolt of pain to his heart.  That day it had seemed that Tony was casting his spell around them both, trying to make it easier.

It had been a little easier then for Gibbs to continue through the day behind his own professional mask. 

That night he'd gotten drunk.

Today he and the younger agent had barely crossed paths.  Tony's field reports had been terse, but not overly so.  Tired and a little hung over, Gibbs had been grateful for that.

Tonight would be important, however long it took.  He wasn't worried about his miscalculation regarding Ziva.  She had nothing to do with Tony's pain, of that Gibbs was certain.  No, he needed to do something and he needed to get his head around this, even if he had to spend the rest of the night going over the situation.

_Tony's not a situation, you fucker. He's a human being._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So now Gibbs was not planing and he was not sanding.  He was not touching anything or listening or moving.  He was drifting down into his gut, into a place of total honesty.  Not the one that was his map of the world, and not the one with the rules.  Unlike many people, Gibbs didn't doubt its existence.  He knew it was there, just as he knew that his coping mechanisms were choices.

His eyes were closed, his hands were still, and though his jaw clenched here and there, he relaxed and let his head rock back just a little, his face tilted into the lamplight.  He waited - it was the closest he ever came to praying.

He didn't know how long he waited; he just waited until it came- the moment of clarity.  Sometimes when he did this down here he saw ghosts, but he hadn't done it in a while, and ghosts were not what he was looking for tonight.  When it happened at work it was quick and involuntary, driven by the demands of the case and the inner mathematics of the investigator's craft.

This time was different.  When his gut finally stilled was when he knew the answer had arrived, and when he saw it Gibbs was a little surprised, not by what it was but by what it wasn't.  It wasn't about what he knew now or what he'd already known.  That part rarely surprised, unless he were waiting for a piece of the puzzle to drop or for an unremembered detail to spring to the surface.  Nor was it an instruction telling him precisely what he must do, he'd have to work that out.  No, this time it was about what he wanted, and despite the possibility of it being too late, it felt good, finally.

What he wanted was DiNozzo.  Around him, all the time.  He didn't deserve him, but he loved him, and if he loved him he would try to fix it . He needed to stop the mixed messages and the take-downs.  He needed to start rebuilding carefully and unselfishly, and he needed to believe.  It wasn't his strong suit, but this was Tony he was talking about.

He hoped Tony would let him make it up to him.  Gibbs believed that at this point any outcome would be better than not trying.  The truth was that he couldn't imagine his life without Anthony DiNozzo.  He would do whatever it took to repair Tony's trust, to get back into some kind of sync, and that would be a beginning.

 _It's kind of nice, y'know, having somebody to talk to_...

 

NEXT: UNAIMED ARROW


End file.
